


glass houses

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Character Death, Chronic Illness, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Suicidal Thoughts, Terminal Illnesses, based on the boy in the plastic bubble (1976) and the life of david vetter, be warned: i wrote this as an eighth grader, but i hope u enjoy, hopefully those are negligible lol, i feel very strange about having partaken in rpf to this degree, illness not graphically depicted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: dan has an illness the doctors can’t treat. he lives in a bubble of imprisoning plastic. his life is monotonous, cold, and without any connection to the people around him. then he meets phil.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Kudos: 2





	glass houses

**Author's Note:**

> **  
>  _(this was originally posted on october 14, 2015 on tumblr as part of the phandom big bang. i have since deactivated that tumblr account, but i wanted this story to have a home. i will try to keep everything from this point forward untouched, as it was when i posted it.)_   
>  **
> 
> _author:_ hallolester (etherlester)
> 
>  _artist:_ philslesters (art [here](https://64.media.tumblr.com/2a6cbc310f516149f343a6d631e138c9/tumblr_nw8llg1xeW1slcmkgo1_1280.png))
> 
>  _beta:_ cerealester
> 
>  _word count:_ 10k
> 
>  _rating:_ pg-13
> 
> **  
> _warnings: major character death, terminal illness, suicidal thoughts, medical procedures (not directly described)_  
> **
> 
>  _summary:_ dan has an illness the doctors can’t treat. he lives in a bubble of imprisoning plastic. his life is monotonous, cold, and without any connection to the people around him. then he meets phil.
> 
> _author’s note:_ this was mentally taxing and complicated and it seemed endless sometimes but it’s finally _finally_ done. my greatest thanks to abby (cerealester), who did a lot to help me along when things were feeling hopeless. thanks also to the best mod squad leader, alex (philslesters), for being so thoughtful and considerate [go wildcats!] and making the art for this fic on rather short notice. i’d also like to thank the numerous friends, both online and off, who gave me ideas and supported me. this fic would not exist without any of you. (or that john travolta movie that gave me the idea, but who cares about john travolta.)

The devout dread hanging in the air felt fatal. Its icy grip kept turning John’s stomach, around and around like a washing machine.

“So, there’s nothing we can do?”

“Not for right now. Plainly, his immune system is near nonexistent.”

“You’ve made that plenty clear by this point, Doctor.” John’s hands balled into fists, trying to push away his frustration.

“Yes, sir, but I want to make everything as clear as possible. Daniel’s condition is rare - it’s called severe combined immunodeficiency, and his B lymphocytes are underdeveloped and cannot respond properly to antibodies.”

“Normal language, _please_ ,” pleaded Diane, her eyes straining with worry. She reached for her husband’s hand, boring her fingernails into his palm.

The doctor sighed. “It means if he gets sick, there’s nothing to do. He has nothing to defend himself.”

“And how the hell do you expect us to keep the kid safe?” John slammed a fist on the arm of his plastic chair.

“If you do not watch your language, I will not accommodate you, Mr. Howell,” the doctor said, pushing her square glasses back up her nose. “Daniel will require a sterile environment - most likely an expensive one- requiring an incredible amount of filters. It must be completely sealed from unfiltered air, objects, and people. The allergens and antibodies present in a normal child’s life cannot be part of Daniel’s.”

“So he can’t go to school? Play football? Make… _friends?_ ” Diane’s head turned to the ground, downtrodden by the doctor’s straightforward disclosure.

“No, none of that. At least, not normally.” The doctor came closer, facing the husband and wife. Her calm facade broke slightly as her mouth turned down at the corners. “Daniel can unfortunately never truly experience a real human life. I don’t mean to be harsh, but-” and her eyes began to water - “his life will be so limited that letting him pass on might be best.”

“So you’re saying we should leave him for dead?”

The doctor turned away to wipe her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Not on your _life_ ,” he defiantly cried, and turned to his wife, who dismissed the doctor with a wave of her hand.

“But John, I think she might be right. Dan won’t know us. He’ll be alien, all separated with sterilization. He’s barely surviving even now.” Diane’s sure voice broke. “Oh, I do love him, honey, but I can’t see how we could possibly save him.”

“Fine.” He stood up. “But you’d be batty as fuck to stop me trying.”

“ _John!_ ” She stood with him. “I know you’re - you’re, well, frustr-”

“This is _not_ an issue I will argue on. We’ve worked for this baby, I’ve been taking care of you ever since you tested positive, we’ve been prepping the nursery for months - there is nothing that will stop me from keeping our son alive.”

And with that, John stormed out of the room, pen in his hand and grim determination on his face.

· · · · · 

“So, how will it work?”

“Well, currently, we’re still a little unsure, but we believe that the sterilized cocoon we’ve prepared will make a suitable home for Daniel. We will supply equipment to sterilize Daniel’s water, food, diapers, et cetera, using ethylene oxide gas. There are a number of air compressors that will keep it inflated. There are plastic gloves attached to its walls that can be used to help in these maneuvers.”

“You also said there would be a procedure, is that happening?” Diane wrung her hands, worrying about her son’s fate.

“We’re currently looking for a bone marrow donor, but there aren’t any yet. If we do get one, that could result in a safe exit from the bubble, but currently we don’t have one. If you have any willing relatives, and I do mean _any_ , bring them in. We’d be happy to test them. It may be a bit of a charge, but that would just go with the regular bills. There may be some difficulties with his current situation, but for right now it’s the best we can do.”

“As long as my son stays alive, I’ll do anything,” said John.

“And I’ll stand by him,” said Diane, standing and grabbing his hand.

“The transfer has been completed. Daniel’s in the cocoon now. You can feel free to go see him,” the doctor said, and led them to the room where Daniel had entered the world. It was white, as sterile and silent as his new plastic world.

And there he was.

· · · · · 

The big machines were whirring incredibly loudly, and the doctors were surrounding him, and the light was incredibly bright and it was hard to breathe, and were those faces?

Faces he had seen before?

Dan blinked a bit. He could see that their lips were moving, but his small ears were completely overwhelmed by the sound of the compressors. One of the faces, which was a bit hard to see through the somewhat marbled, dirtied plastic, looked to have a red smear across the middle and dark, long bits on the side. The face was joined by a handish-looking blob, which moved back and forth.

Dan thought he may have seen the face before, but it was hard to think in such bright light, so he closed his eyes and leaned back into the plastic bubble.

· · · · · 

“What’s the bad news now, doc?”

“If you start all of our phone calls that way, John, we’re never going to get anywhere,” sighed Olivia.

“Is it bad news or not?”

“Give her a chance to talk, John!” said Diane from her armchair on the other side of the living room.

“You might want to let your wife listen to this one, John,” said Olivia, as she heard the phone clatter as it was placed on the coffee table. She could see it in her head - she couldn’t count how many times she had been to the Howell household in the past few months.

She took a deep breath. She never liked giving bad news, but she had become a nurse for a reason. She’d practically signed up for it.

“You recall a few weeks ago, when I mentioned the idea of Daniel’s cousin Evie being a donor?”

“Yes, of course I do, it’s all that we’ve been thi-”

“Well, Evie came in last week with her mother - Diane’s sister - and she was tested to be a prospective donor.” Olivia subsequently heard a slight squealing sound from Diane, and said, “Calm down, I’m not finished yet.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this before, doctor?” asked Diane.

“The results didn’t come in until today. We didn’t want to get your hopes up for too long.”

“What d’you mean, get our hopes up?” said John quietly.

“Evie…”

“Spit it out, Olivia!” shouted John. Olivia could almost see his face, flushed with blood, staring at the phone.

“Evie was not a match.”

A small sob, weighed down with indeterminable grief, was the only sound to be heard for well over half a minute.

“You realize what this means, don’t you, Mr. Howell?”

“There’s got to be someone else.” Olivia had never heard John so quiet, so devoid of his usual, bubbling-with-energy self. “A distant relative - a second cousin? Even a third or fourth? Someone’s got to be able to help Danny, they’ve just _got_ to, this can’t be the end, can it?”

There was a brief silence. John’s eyes were swollen with tears, and Diane could barely stand to look at the phone.

“Dan can’t leave the bubble until we proceed with the transplant. And there is simply no way to do that. I’m sorry, Mr. Howell.”

And with that, Olivia hung up the phone.

· · · · · 

Dan opened his eyes.

There was the whirring, the light, the plastic, the people.

The hospital was theirs again.

At night, when he dreamt, the hospital was his. He could walk around on those tile floors, imagine how they felt against his toes. He could run his hands along the walls. He could hear people. He could touch them, feel their embrace around him.

He could see his mum and dad without the distortion of the plastic that had surrounded him in his waking hours for four long, chronicled years.

And when he woke, there it all was. He could see the tiles he’d walked on, the cabinets he’d opened, the walls he’d brushed with his fingertips.

But now it was as out of reach as ever.

As far away as anything ever could be.

Every morning for four years, he’d woken up to this epiphany.

And today, Dan was feeling it bubble up in his veins.

He was _angry._

And what could he take it out on?

His only company in the bubble (at least at night): a meager sleeping bag.

His tiny fingers reached for the zipper, tugged it with all his might. His toenails and fingernails scratched at its durable surface. His teeth latched onto it, and his head pulled it this way and that. His legs kicked at it fiercely in protest. His elbows pounded against the fabric violently, like a crazed monkey broken out of its cage.

Dan paused his barrage for a moment, and looked about him.

_The doctors were not looking at him._

They simply did not care. They were looking for other patients, other problems to solve, while other gloved hands could take care of him.

And for the first time, Dan knew that his dreams of walking and speaking and being like them would never be enough.

He needed to escape, before he became nothing but a bubble.

But he had no resources, nothing whatsoever.

For endless minutes, he sat there, feeling helpless to his fate.

And then - blessed be!- a doctor came to him.

His daily injection! It would be his savior!

The doctor removed the syringe from a box, which emanated a foggy-looking gas. He placed it inside the chamber, then reached into the plastic gloves built into the walls of the chamber.

But before the doctor’s gloved hands could reach it, Dan’s miniscule hands grabbed it up for himself.

 _“Daniel James Howell!”_ the doctor screamed. “Put that syringe down _right now!_ ” But Dan would not relinquish his escape.

He touched the end of the syringe. It was sharp, just as the doctors had told him. Then again, they had also told him to avoid touching it.

He pointed the sharp end at the wall of the chamber, and with a stabbing motion, punctured the wall of his plastic prison.

 _ **“EMERGENCY!”**_ screamed the terrified doctor. He grabbed a small microphone for the PA system, and shouted into it. “Howell at _severe risk of infection!_ All doctors to room 2D _immediately!_ ”

Everything started blurring together in Dan’s vision, but he felt himself being picked up. The hands were plasticine, but they were lifting him out of the bubble. Into the world he had so long wanted.

 _I made it,_ though Dan, as his mouth was covered with a gas mask. _I did it._

· · · · · 

After all that chaos and shouting and effort, Dan was back in the bubble.

And the doctors were now droning on about why that could never happen again.

“Dan, are you listening to me?”

One of the doctors was looking at Dan. He had bluey-greeny eyes and dark, trimmed hair. He seemed to be shouting, but it was reduced to a murmur over the ever-present whir of the air compressors.

Dan bobbed his head to show that yes, he could hear him, though just barely over the whirring.

“Okay. So the reason that you can’t come out of the bubble is because you have a special thing about you. There have only ever been around three or four people with it before. Isn’t that cool?”

Dan shrugged, because yes, it was pretty cool to be in a club with only five people with a special thing in common, but it wasn’t great if it was leading to why he had to stay in the bubble.

“You have something in your body called an immune system. And the immune system is something that protects you. If something bad were to get in your body, then the immune system would keep it from spreading and making you sick. Sickness isn’t fun, believe me.”

This was somewhat confusing, but Dan was following, so he nodded again.

“But your immune system is a bit different. That’s the special thing. Your immune system is almost gone. That mean it’s really hard for you to defend against bad stuff, like diseases and infections. If you were to get sick, you would have a very, very tough time recovering.”

How was it good - or even special - to be defenseless against bad stuff?

“The bubble is there to help you, I promise. It helps keep the bad stuff away. Those diseases can be floating around in the air all the time, so the air inside there is filtered and doesn’t have any of the bad stuff, so you won’t get ill.”

Dan nodded again, though at this point he didn’t want to hear any more condemnation of a life outside.

“The things out here that we touch with our hands? They have these things called germs on them. Germs are really tiny, and you can’t see them, but they can cause diseases, too. Do you see that chamber over there?” He pointed at the box that the doctor had removed the syringe from. “It’s got a special gas in it that kills the germs, so that they can’t hurt you. So all in all, the bubble is protecting you. If you came out of the bubble, you could get seriously ill and die.”

Dan was confused, so he tilted his head to the side and looked at the doctor.

“Oh, dying? Dying is when you fall asleep, but you never wake up, ever.”

That sounded wonderful! Dreaming of living a life with his mum and dad outside the bubble, forever and ever and ever?

“No dreams, either.”

Never mind, then. Dying didn’t sound fun.

“You understand now, don’t you, Dan? That would happen to you, if you came out of the bubble again. The bubble protects you.”

Dan nodded over and over until his neck hurt.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now. Don’t try to get out again, okay?”

The blue-eyed doctor left.

Dan pressed his face flat to the floor of the bubble, heart heavy with desolation, and closed his eyes.

· · · · · 

Exactly one year of long, whirring days later, Dan awoke to whooping and shouting, in addition to the whirring compressors and bright light he had now become used to. A few doctors were wrapping their arms around one another, and - were those his parents? Yes, they were, and they were looking at him with incredibly wide smiles. Whatever had happened, it seemed very important and very exciting.

Would anyone tell him what was going on? Or was he just left to observe in his bubble until someone got around to remembering him?

To draw attention, he pounded the sides of the bubble and screamed, _“What is happening?”_ Nothing but a scream could be heard in his world.

His father, the only person in the room wearing blue jeans, turned to him. “Dan, do you remember how they said a long time ago that they might make another bubble in our house? So you can be with us?”

Dan nodded, his anticipation growing.

“Today, they’ve finally proofed a bubble in our house! You can come live with us, and you don’t have to be in the hospital! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Dan smiled wide and placed his hands on the wall of the bubble. His dad placed his hands over Dan’s. They did this whenever they were together, as it was the closest to physical contact Dan would ever get from his dad.

“You’re going to come in two days. Two days, and you’ll be with us, living with us. Won’t that be wonderful, Dan?”

Dan smiled and turned away.

“Dan, keep listening to me. Please. Son?”

But John had said it too quietly. Dan snuggled back into his sleeping bag, thinking of what living with his family had in store for him. How the family dichotomy would change with a bubble upstairs, what his parents would think of having such a burden around all the time. However imperfect and flawed his life might be, it was the closest he’d probably get to normal for a long, long time.

· · · · · 

It was moving day.

“Going to your bub-ble, your bub-ble, your bub-ble, we’re going to your bub-ble, wherever it may go!” sang Olivia, to the tune of the Peter Pan song, as she moved plastic boxes of medical equipment to and fro.

Dan watched her. She seemed so excited for him, but Dan already missed the hospital. Its cinderblock walls, its imported cabinets, and its cheerful people, who were always chattering and smiling and laughing, even when they weren’t watching him, and even when he wasn’t watching them, like that one time when he got a GameBoy and played Tetris for 13 hours. He’d miss this place, but would home be any better? Or would he be homesick in his own house? 

Finally, it was time to be moved, and Dan was picked up by Olivia and placed carefully inside a smaller transport bubble. She had said the drive would take fifteen minutes, so to pass the time, Dan counted each second (964 of them, to be exact) until his house was in view.

It had a slanted roof, five visible windows, a front door - the stereotypical toddler’s crayon drawing of a house. But to Dan, it couldn’t be more new - the siding was a shade of tan he’d never seen before, there were steps (unlike at the hospital, which had ramps for those in wheelchairs), and the door was shiny and wooden and open for him.

Right inside the door, there it was - his new bubble. It was not as dirty as his old bubble, it had newer, much quieter compressors, and best of all, it was in his house! He could see a kitchen, a stovetop and a fridge! A couch to lay on, a television and a coffee table! All of life laid out before him in a glorious structure!

But it wasn’t his to enjoy.

The bubble was his. Another bubble, just like his old one, but in a place where now he could see all the possibilities that were before him for his life if it were outside. All the activities his parents and (apparently) his sibling, soon to be born, were engaging in would only make him more anxious to escape the bubble he had no way to escape safely.

However exciting his parents might find it, Dan was stuck just as much as he had been in the hospital.

· · · · · 

The third episode of _Bernard’s Watch_ for the week was on. Bernard had lent his time-travel watch to some secondary character, who had now ended up two days previous instead of two hours ahead. It was, believe it or not, more boring than it sounded. This was especially because Dan had done barely anything but watch and eat for his five years at home.

Since his brother was born soon after he came home, he hadn’t been greeted with the kind of attention he got at the hospital. Instead, he got “Dan, we’re going to go get some clothes for Adrian, be back soon, okay?”

He missed the hospital, almost every day. But of course, this was his place. Being eleven, and separated from everyone else by a film of dusty plastic, he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

His parents told him that at his age - eleven - he would now be moving into secondary school. It sounded both terrifying and intriguing, but he knew he would never get anything like that. His knowledge extended to breeds of Pokémon, basic maths, and what a verb was. He’d never survive in a real school. He’d not only do badly in his subjects, but kids would tease him since he didn’t know about anything.

Also, there probably wasn’t room for a giant plastic bubble in the corner of the average classroom.

A knock came on the door. Dan glanced at the window - it seemed dark. His dad must be home from work.

“Dan!” his dad shouted. “I have some _wonderful_ news for you!”

His dad was never so enthusiastic as this. Not even when Adrian first learned to walk - he’d scoffed and said, “I knew he’d get it eventually.” Whatever was happening, it sounded like it would be important.

“There’s a school nearby that wants to give you a try!”

So, not the good kind of important.

· · · · · 

“I’ve got some great news for you today, class.”

Mrs. Robinson pushed her glasses up her nose. They were the type with a chain on the end that looped around her mop of grey hair. She stood up in front of the red-marker-stained whiteboard.

“We have a new student coming!”

She was trying to sound excited, but it almost made her gravelly voice sound worse. At least a new kid would be a change of pace. Phil wasn’t alone in thinking this – the whole classroom was buzzing with excitement. There wasn’t a kid in the school who didn’t dislike Mrs. Robinson. Anything new was better than what they had.

But there must be some catch.

“His name is Dan Howell, and he has severe combined immunodeficiency.”

And there it was. The new kid was _special._

“His disease is very unique, only a very few people have had it. So we’re going to learn a little about it before Mr. Howell comes to our institution.”

Of course Ms. Robinson would turn a new kid coming into a _learning experience._

“Can anyone guess what immunodeficiency is? Miss Turner?”

Sally Turner was a know-it-all, and a frustrating one at that. She wore pink gingham bows in her hair every day, and was (unfortunately) present in every single one of Phil’s classes.

“Well,” Sally said, in her pinched, shrill voice, “immuno- is a prefix originating from the Latin word _immunis, immunis,_ and it means his disease is related to the immune system, which protects from illness. Deficiency means a lack of, so _immunodeficiency_ therefore must mean the lack of immunity from illness.”

“Very thorough as always, Miss Turner,” said Mrs. Robinson, with a small smile. The only smiles she had were reserved for Sally, who was clearly her favorite. “Yes, indeed, severe combined immunodeficiency affects the B lymphocytes, which run through the bloodstream. I have drawn a diagram on the whiteboard in order to…”

And she began to drone on and on, as she did in most classes. Phil was already sorry for Dan - Mrs. Robinson was making him into a spectacle before he even got here. He’d probably attract bullies like moths to a light.

He continued thinking about Dan - how he might look, where he’d come from - when he suddenly heard the word “bubble”.

“ _What?_ ” exclaimed David in the front row, and the whole classroom filled with whispers.

“Calm down, boys and girls. Mr. Howell is indeed in a bubble. His life depends on his air being free of antibodies, and the air in this classroom cannot fulfill that requirement. Mr. Howell will therefore participate in class inside of a bubble. He has been in a bubble all his life.”

What an awful thing to have. Phil couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be separate from the whole world like that all your life.

“Mr. Howell has also never attended real school before, because of his condition, but he has been given basic tests and been approved to go here. Please treat him with kindness and respect – remember, this is his first experience of school at all. Mr. Howell’s first day will be next Monday, which will also be the day of your test on the parts of the cell. Of course, he will not partake in it, but the rest of you will, so I suggest you all prepare. There are multiple resources available to you. First, I suggest you look through your notebooks and over your…”

And the droning voice returned, filling the remaining 30 minutes of class with useless, repeated information about how to study parts of the cell. The bell, as it always was in that classroom, was a wonderful relief.

Who knew what would happen on Monday?

· · · · · 

First day of school! A monumental moment for every child!

But for Dan, it wasn’t special at all.

He’d been left with strange adults, with other children occasionally, learned things, accumulated knowledge. Everything he knew about school was familiar to him, just a different setting. And he was not excited.

The transport bubble had been modified, so that it could be pushed around and controlled more by Dan to move from class to class. He’d gotten his schedule, his teachers, spoken to the principal. He’d been sent off by Mum and Dad and given best wishes.

So why was he still so anxious?

Olivia walked in front of him as Dan slowly made his way up the wheelchair ramp. She would be around his first week, to carry his books and open doors. After that, some college student would accompany him. She opened the huge doors and let Dan through.

Stares.

A million eyes, all looking at him and judging him. Of course, he’d expected some staring, but not that it would be so… universal. No one moved except him, following Olivia to his new locker. It was as though the bubble had put a spell over the whole school, reducing its students to gaping, whispering statues.

And there Dan was in the middle of it.

Finally, he made it to the door of his first class. Science. It was labeled “Mrs. Robinson”. Before he could think twice, he walked through the doorway.

He was greeted with students clamoring to their seats, murmuring and laughing, and Mrs. Robinson bent over papers at her desk. But as soon as they heard the clang of the door closing, their heads snapped like lasers to focus on Dan, plastic bubble and all. It was interesting and terrifying all at once, and Dan had never seen this kind of reaction to him. He moved to the back, where there was a special desk for him. The new bubble had special gloves he could use to participate in class. Olivia placed his things on the desk and sat next to him.

“So, class,” Mrs. Robinson said, after a long silence (35 seconds, Dan counted on the clock), “let’s all welcome Mr. Howell to our classroom.”

“Hello, Mr. Howell,” said everyone in a monotone voice.

“Thank you. Please treat Mr. Howell as you would any other student. Mr. Howell, we are taking a test today, so for today, you are free to observe the class. Miss Sanders, if you would take the test papers and pass them back, please. Silence, class.” And with that, Mrs. Robinson sat down again.

As everyone started working, Dan crumpled his bowl-cut hair, as he often did when he was nervous, and scanned the room. It was about evenly split between boys and girls, though there were 2 more boys than there were girls. It was set up like a lecture hall, with different levels and curved tables. Everyone was bent over their work but one, who was sitting right in front of Phil.

He was looking at the ceiling, and seemed bored. He must have finished his test. He had a nametag in front of him reading “Phil Lester”, and his eyes were captivatingly blue. And now they were looking at him.

Dan froze up, feeling self-conscious, but Phil smiled and turned around. He held up his hands and started moving them around his head, over his chest. Dan slowly realized he was speaking sign language. He had learned some basic sign language letters, so he held up his hand and signed, _I-C-A-N-T-S-I-G-N._

Phil stopped and bent over his desk again. Dan looked to his left - Olivia had left, presumably because there was nothing for her to watch. Phil placed the piece of paper he had been writing on on the table in front of Dan. It said, _Hi! I’m Phil. Nice to meet you._

Dan picked up a pencil using the built-in gloves and wrote, _Nice to meet you too. Do you know about me?_

Phil: _Mrs. Robinson spent a whole class talking about your disease, but not you. Tell me about you, I’m interested._

Dan: _I lived in a hospital for 5 years, I love Pokemon, my favorite color is black. You?_

Phil: _Pokemon is cool. What music do you like?_

And they continued talking until the class had finished and Mrs. Robinson looked up. “You are dismissed, class,” she said. “Good work.”

Everyone stood up, and Phil walked away, the paper in his hand.

· · · · · 

“Mr. Howell will not be returning.”

Phil knew this would happen eventually - Dan had told him that school would probably be temporary, considering all the problems it caused - but he hadn’t expected it after only three weeks.

Dan had, over those three weeks, become the best friend he could have. Dan was funny, he was honest, and he made class a whole lot more interesting. Even if he did have a little trouble with some things. And now he was gone.

Mrs. Robinson shushed the murmurs and said, “Just an announcement, boys and girls. We do have other things to do today. Returning to our discussion of genes, there are certain conditions that result from a lack of or more than what is needed of your…”

But Phil was too lost in thought to care.

Dan. Gone. The last conversation they’d had was about the merits of the Backstreet Boys, and that was all he had now.

But why did he care about a friendship he’d known wouldn’t be able to last?

That wasn’t his concern anymore. Right now, his concern was with chromosomes, and how hungry he was at only 9:00, and who was in his next class.

Phil moved on.

· · · · · 

Dan didn’t, to say the least.

He dwelt on those three weeks for five years.

Whenever he was bored, he thought, _I wonder what Phil would think of this episode_ , or _I bet Phil would give me a hug after all that_ , or _Phil’d back me up on this_. He imagined Phil in his life again, and that was all he could do.

Dan was in love with Phil.

He loved his appearance - how easy it was to get lost in his nebulaic irises, and how it must feel to run your fingers along his cheek, and where his ticklish spots are, and how his mouth looks when he laughs. His genuine love for things, and how he messes with his hair when he’s working, and high-fiving him through a glove.

Phil enveloped his thoughts. He was there every time he played Pokemon and ate breakfast and sat on his special bubble chair. He was everywhere, he was in the filtered oxygen Dan breathed in. He soaked into Dan’s life until he couldn’t be wringed out.

And Dan thought for sure that he’d never see him again.

Never hear his laugh ring in his ears, never see his face light up with excitement, never see him blush or cry or scream or smile again.

That was the only thing Dan knew.

That his Phil, the one he had, would never really be there.

It was depressing, really.

He could never live in the same world Phil did. The same world anyone did. His world was lonely and dark and cold and loud and it would never be enough for him. Dan would never be enough. He would never get what he desperately needed.

Hope was nowhere to be found.

And Dan began thinking of ways to get out.

Every time he held anything remotely non-blunt - a pencil, a knitting needle, his DS stylus - his first thought was of _escape_. Of stabbing a hole in the walls that surrounded him and finally releasing from the life inhibiting him.

But he couldn’t do that. His family was depending on him. He had to hold on.

· · · · · 

“New neighbors, Dan! We’re getting new neighbors!”

“Nobody fucking cares, Dad,” Dan muttered to himself before turning around.

His dad was beaming, and it was almost unnaturally bright. He hadn’t seen his dad this excited in months - or perhaps years.

“They’re called the Lesters, and they have two boys, Martyn and Phil! How exciting is that? You’ll get to meet some new people! And Phil’s your age, too, so you’ll have a mate nearby. Of course, they may need some explanation about your… er, condition, but we’ll work things out with all that later. They’re going into the house on the right, where the Newfields used to live, d’you remember them? Dan, are you listening to me?”

He hadn’t heard a word since Phil. There was no way it could be his Phil, the one he’d been thinking about for five years. But there couldn’t be another Phil Lester either, could there? Phil was gone, long gone, and fate wasn’t the type to smile at Dan. Not anymore. He’d accepted that Phil wasn’t his. Life couldn’t just push Phil back at him without explanation. 

And yet it was.

He couldn’t decide whether to cry in happiness or in despair, so he wept tears of both. An amalgam of emotion was swirling in his stomach, and he felt himself shaking.

“Dan, Dan, do you need something? Is there something wrong?”

His dad had no idea what was happening.

“Dad, dad… have you met them? What does he look like?” he choked out through the sobs racking his body.

“Um… I guess you mean Phil? He’s the one that’s your age… he’s got black hair and bluey sort of eyes, and he’s rather pale… why do you ask?”

It was Phil. It was truly Phil, his Phil was back and he could stay this time. He could live and maybe die with Phil by his side, and now he had a reason to breathe again. Dan could feel the air rushing through his lungs for the first time in months, and his eyes were open to possibility and his arms were reaching out and he was not just joyful, but joy-full.

“Just curious, Dad,” he said, and waved goodbye as his dad left.

As soon as he heard his dad finish descending the stairs, he cried “Yes!” and flopped back onto his sleeping bag, his brain brimming with thoughts of Phil’s thrilling return.

· · · · · 

“Mooooving day!” sang Phil, as he grabbed another load of boxes to carry outside. He’d been excited for this move for months - the house the Lesters had been living in was small, cramped, and rather lacking in good lighting. Now, after saving for years, they would have a new house. Phil had seen it from the outside - it was white, with blue shutters - but he couldn’t wait to see how huge it would be inside. All the memories he could have there.

The ride there - it took near half an hour - was full of nerves. Everyone was emanating joy, but was really feeling worried about what awaited them in this new house. Who knew what would happen?

When the car pulled up, his dad honked the horn and turned toward the backseat. “First order of business,” he said, “is to meet our new neighbors. We’ve got some in the house over there on the left, but they’re away on vacation, so we’re meeting the Howells first, yeah?”

The Howells. Where had he heard that name before?

It seemed so familiar, but somehow very distant and forgotten. He was certain it had been very important at some point to him, but he couldn’t pinpoint how long ago that was.

Then the Howells came out of their house.

One, a father.

Two, a mother.

Three, a son - younger than Phil for sure.

Four - a bubble. 

And suddenly he remembered. His three-week soulmate, Dan Howell, was his neighbor. And he looked as though he was about to cry.

Phil ran toward the bubble. Reached his arms around it, toward the gloves. Dan reached back, and they squeezed hands. “Dan!” he shouted with glee, and Dan smiled so wide his dimples should have broken.

“You two know each other?” Dan’s dad asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah! When Dan went to school a few years back, I was in all his classes,” Phil explained, and Dan nodded.

“Well, then, you two can go off if you want to, reconnect and all,” Mr. Howell said, and dismissed them with a wave.

When Dan finally made it up the stairs, Phil looked around his room. It was dark grey, had a few posters adorning the walls. There was a big microwave-looking thing with a lot of machinery attached to it, which Phil assumed was related to Dan’s disease.

Right outside his window, which connected to Phil’s house, was the window to another room, in which a couple of boxes were being stacked. Phil could just barely see through the dirtied glass that the boxes had labels in his handwriting.

“I’m across from you!” he said excitedly, turning around to look at Dan, still beaming.

“I’m so excited that you’re moving in,” he said, quietly and somewhat slowly. “I’ve thought about you a good bit.”

“Really?” Phil was certainly surprised. He’d barely remembered Dan.

“When you don’t get much social interaction, you dwell upon friends a lot, even if they aren’t around to be your friend,” he said even softer.

“Oh.” Of course. Dan had no one to talk to. Dan had changed. Of course he had. “I can’t wait to talk to you for longer, or play video games or something, but my dad probably needs me to help unpack, so I gotta go. See you later,” he sighed.

“Of course,” Dan said, smiling again.

“Let’s see if I can get across through the windows!” Phil suggested, as he pulled open Dan’s dingy window.

“Of course not, yours is locked! Did you think they’d just leave it open for every shitty burglary on the block?” Dan chuckled.

“Valid point,” Phil said, joining in Dan’s laughter. “Bye.”

“Bye,” said Dan, and just as Phil was leaving the room, Dan murmured something else, but it was too soft for Phil to hear, and he really was in a hurry.

· · · · · 

Phil was back. Phil was back, and it was nearly impossible to believe.

All Dan’s feelings came rushing back with twice the fervor. His brain was flooded with thoughts of Phil, and whenever he was in Phil’s presence, he became so incredibly happy that he had trouble functioning the same, acting normal.

Love took its path.

To be honest, after 3 months of this euphoria, Dan was surprised his mum hadn’t noticed. She was usually attuned to him very well, but these days she seemed very preoccupied with something important. She refused to discuss it around him, which was rather odd as well.

And here she came now.

She walked into Dan’s room, sat down next to him, and grinned ecstatically.

“Dan, I have some extremely exciting news for you!”

At least this time she hadn’t delegated the news-giving to Dad. So it must be really important, not like some of the other things he’d heard recently - “We’re going to have pizza tonight!”, “Adrian is in a big tournament this weekend!”, et cetera.

“You - are - going - to - have - a - suit!” she shouted. “An astronaut suit!”

What? How would such a thing even work? Would it be huge, or closer to his size? Could he actually touch people or not?

“It’s almost exactly like an astronaut suit, too - Olivia actually asked NASA about it! They made it! There’ll probably be some news people around, since this is sort of a new thing, so don’t get too excited yet. But it’ll be for your own use, anytime you like! You can get in it whenever you like and go walking around. Really walking! Isn’t this so amazing?”

Dan couldn’t wait to see it already - but what would it really do for him?

Still no touch, still no actual human experience. He wouldn’t be able to smell his house, touch his popcorn ceiling. He wouldn’t be able to interact normally, even with the most high-tech astronaut suit ever created.

And, for the first time in 3 months, his suicidal thoughts returned.

 _Phil didn’t care._ Phil wouldn’t care if Dan ever got out of his bubble, he obviously wasn’t aware of Dan’s feelings for him. Phil didn’t care about all he’d gone through while they didn’t see each other. Phil hadn’t even thought of him for five years, while Phil had filled all of Dan’s thoughts.

What an idiot he was to think things would ever be different.

· · · · · 

It had come.

It was yellowish, and it looked to be like the material of a balloon. It was attached to a long yellow tube, which attached to the filters, and had a plastic, clear head covering.

It was strange, and alien, and Dan wanted nothing to do with it. But now, at least the first time, he had to try it.

He slipped in, with the aid of Olivia. He walked about - it was a bit strange around his arms and legs, and his head felt a little stuck in the small bubbly thing, but he was walking. Walking on his own floor, in his own room, in his own house. He could feel the rug, just the slightest bit, through the soles of his shoes. It was so calming to finally experience a bit of touch, after sixteen years of enclosure and exclusion from the world around him.

Now, he had to find Phil. He had to hug him.

He had read in a novel once about a girl who had pined after some kid at her school, and when she finally hugged him, she realized during the hug that he liked her too. He hoped that the same principle would help him understand Phil. Finally decide if he should detach from his feelings.

He walked next door, with the aid of Olivia, and made it up the stairs to Phil’s room.

Phil opened the door. His mouth fell open in utter shock.

 _“Dan!_ You have your suit? It arrived?”

He nodded madly.

“This is _amazing!_ ” Phil shouted. “I’m so happy for you, Dan.” He reached out his arms and hugged Dan.

And there it was. Just like in the book. Dan could tell just how Phil felt.

Before his eyes had the chance to water, he escaped the hug, said “I’ve got to go back with Olivia,” and left.

Phil didn’t love him. It was there, in that contact. Phil saw him as a brother, a confidante, a friend above all - but in no way could Phil ever reciprocate what Dan felt. It was unusual how prominent it seemed. Dan hadn’t truly expected for anything to happen - books like that often lied - but as soon as his suit touched Phil, he understood what Phil felt. It was strange, but undeniably true.

Phil would never love him back.

· · · · · 

It was just a normal day, until Dan ruined everything.

Phil was just quietly doing his homework, when his mum called, “Dan’s here, he needs to see you, honey.”

He had no idea what to expect, but it wasn’t what he got.

Dan looked down at Phil through the bubble’s blurred plastic and looked him straight in the eye.

“Phil, I’ve got some really important news. As in, really important.”

“All right, then. Get on with it.”

“I, um, I - I’m going to get -”

“Get a what, you dork?”

“A…” Dan looked at his hands. “I’m getting a transplant. A bone marrow transplant. I’m going to get out of the bubble, Phil.”

“No way. No way, you’re _serious?_ ” Phil jumped up and hugged the bubble. Dan smiled and hugged him back, the plastic restricting yet comforting.

“You’re going to get out of the bubble. This is insane, who’s getting you the transplant?”

“Evie, my cousin. Apparently, now they’ve finally retested her, she’s got the right stuff so my body won’t reject anything. They scanned it all, everything’s good. I’m going to escape.” Dan’s cheeks were wet with tears now, and Phil held his hands using the gloves on the walls of the bubble.

“It’s going to be great, Dan. You can really hug me, and jump on my bed, and open my door. The world is gonna be yours!”

“I know,” Dan said, his voice cracking. And very quietly, so quietly Phil could barely hear it, he said, “But I won’t have you.”

“What do you mean?” Phil asked, just as quietly. “I’m right here. I’m not going to leave, Dan. Everything’s okay.”

“I mean I won’t _really_ have you. Not the way I need to,” Dan replied. Tears continued to fall, but their cause had clearly changed.

“The way you need to? Dan, is there something up?”

“Don’t you _get it,_ Phil?” And suddenly Dan was backing away, to the opposite corner of his bubble. His face was bright red. “While you were growing up and having friends and not remembering me for even an instant, I fell in _fucking love_ with you. I thought about you all the time. I had no other bloody choice, for God’s sake! I was stuck here for _five years_ pining after you while you were off having an actual life and forgetting about me. So don’t you goddamn say that the world is mine, because I can’t have _the only thing I fucking want!”_

And with that, Dan’s anger broke in two. He collapsed on the floor in fits of tears. Phil’s heart fell with him.

“No, no, Dan, you don’t understand -”

“I understand well enough,” he barked. “Bloody hell, every time something goes wrong in my life I just go crawling back to you! Maybe you should just stay away from me -”

“Dan, Dan, _please/i > let me talk -”_

__

__

“You don’t deserve a bloody _word!_ ” he screamed, and made his way hastily out the door.

And he was gone. Out of Phil’s life. Who knew, maybe for good.

And he’d never hear exactly what he wanted to hear, and what Phil wanted to say.

Phil loved Dan, too.

· · · · · 

The hospital was buzzing with life. Dan opened his eyes.

The operation was over. He looked up.

And _there was no plastic around him._

No inhibiting bubbles, no loud filters, no limits.

He was finally, _finally_ free.

And he _squealed._

He shouted with joy, jumped up from the hospital bed, ran past the doctors and his family in the waiting room, down numerous flights of stairs before the doctors could touch him. He ran to the end of the hall, to a beautiful windowpane. He swung it wide open. Breathed.

 _Fresh air!_ His dream for sixteen years was finally coming true around him.

There were birds, chirping their songs unmuted, and cars honking at one another, and little people and little talks, and _wow,_ he loved it all! There were too many things, it was all so overwhelming, and so was his happiness. He couldn’t limit his joy. He just couldn’t - and he sang.

“ _Good_ day, _sun_ shine!” he sang. One of the songs his mom played most often at home - she loved the Beatles to death. “ _Good_ day, _sun_ shine!” Someone looked up at him from below, and he smiled and waved. He just could not believe this was happening to him. “ _Good_ day, _sun_ shine!” he sang once more, and the someone from below smiled.

“I need to laugh!” they sang up to him.

“And when the sun is out!” Dan replied, seeing others beginning to look to him and join in the joy.

“I’ve got something I can laugh about!” they both sang, and others began to join in.

“I feel good, in a _special_ way!” they chorused together, and somehow Dan had created a phenomenon. The cars were stopping and looking.

This wasn’t what he had expected, not at all. Not a full on event, his first time interacting with real people. But he would certainly go with it.

“I’m in love, and it’s a sunny day!” he sang, in harmony this time. And the whole crowd joined in.

“ _Good_ day, _sun_ shine!” A man on the street below played the brief note sequence on his guitar.

“ _Good_ day, _sun_ shine!” Dan chuckled, imagining what the people in the upper hallway were thinking of all the fuss.

“ _Good_ day, _sun_ shine!”

And there it ended for Dan, as the doctors pulled him away from the window. The song continued to go on without him.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Howell?” one said, in a somewhat frighteningly calm voice.

“Just having a little sing-along,” he replied, and smiled.

“You’re still vulnerable, Mr. Howell. We still have work to do. Come along.”

And so he went with them to do some routine tests, but the euphoria of freedom was still boiling through his arteries.

He was _real._ He could touch things without having to feel them through a layer of plastic, he could really feel the texture in everything around him, sense the world in a complete and uninterrupted flow. It was impossible to believe, and yet it was.

His life was now full, and he intended to use his freedom as best he could.

· · · · · 

The operation was complete.

Dan was ready to finally, finally leave the bubble.

And Phil couldn’t be there with him.

“Only immediate family,” the doctors insisted, but Phil didn’t particularly care. He loved Dan, and for God’s sake he had the right to see him.

See him breathe the same air as Phil for the first time. See him touch the hospital bed, see his face light up with wonder when Phil came in and reconciled.

See him really become what he was meant to be - like everyone else.

But now they weren’t letting anyone in. Now there was a lot of shouting and worry in the air, and Phil couldn’t tell what was happening.

Olivia, the only one of Dan’s doctors Phil knew by name, came out the door. It was the same room Dan had lived in while he was at the hospital.

“We have some bad news. Brace yourselves.”

Dan had better not die. Dan had better not bloody -

“There’s something in the bone marrow.”

No.

“Something we didn’t see. That we couldn’t have seen.”

_No._

“And it’s traveling through Dan’s bloodstream.”

Phil’s legs buckled instantaneously and he was on the ground, his eyes melting into puddles on the ground, his ears folding in on themselves and his head stuck in a broken record of no. Dan could not be dying, Dan could not be going, they were meant to be together, he was meant to go in and tell him he loved him. So they could be together and never have to stay apart by any plastic ever again.

That was what was supposed to bloody happen. It was in the stars, it was in Phil’s heart and damn anything that got in his way, he was going to go in there.

He pushed the doctors aside, saying it was an emergency and he had to see him. They pushed back, keeping him away, and he pushed even further. Finally, he got to the door.

Dan was lying on the bed. His hospital gown was a pure, untouched white, and his eyes were sealed shut, as the doctors had put him under anaesthesia again. His lips, his hands, his legs were perfect. He looked like an angel, descended from the land of gods to bless Phil’s world.

But the disease in his blood had come to condemn it.

A doctor spotted him and held the door open for him, obviously enforcing his departure.

Phil waved goodbye to his angel and slowly, slowly exited.

· · · · · 

There were no words for it.

No words for the way it felt to have your heart put in place and torn apart in the same day. No words for how Dan’s new world was crumbling under his feet.

He was grasping at straws now, feeling crushed under the weight of his own fate. He knew fate hated him - it had never given him many chances at happiness - but he hadn’t expected this sort of ruthlessness, especially in such joy.

No way was he going to die now, not when he had just come to life.

He felt stillborn, in a limbo between life and death. But he stayed silent, in slumber. He didn’t want to confront the problems he was leaving behind.

Mainly Phil.

His partial consciousness allowed him to hear the bustle of doctors, trying to get at the problem rooting in his bloodstream. And above all of that was Phil. His voice, lilting and strong, asking questions to everyone.

It was comforting, to imagine Phil. Even if Phil would never know him the same way, never get to see him free, at least he still had a voice Dan could listen to.

He knew Phil didn’t like him. Didn’t love him the same way Dan loved Phil. That had been obvious from The Day, when Dad had told him two weeks ago. And yet, he still couldn’t bear to be without him. You’d think that he’d learn, but it had been near six years, and he was still just as in love with Phil as he had been so long ago.

But Phil was no longer his concern. He was dying.

In his more awake moments, he felt himself slowly getting exhausted, even though he had not exerted himself - he’d been lying in bed since the singing incident. He felt himself getting stiffer and more stuck in his lying position, as his limbs became harder to move. He knew that the doctors, however optimistic they might be, knew that he was going to die.

And so he opened his eyes. Sat up.

“I want to see everyone a little before I go and die.”

· · · · · 

It was time.

Dan had gone through everyone else - all the extended family and friends of family, a couple other families on their block, even the rest of Phil’s family.

He’d saved Phil for last.

Phil walked in, his legs weak and almost buckling. He got down on his knees, looked behind him, quietly said, “Can we be alone?” Olivia left.

“Dan,” he said softly.

“You can touch me, Phil. Feel free.”

And Phil did.

He ran his hands along Dan’s skin, which was supple under his fingers. He saw its divots and freckles, the places where it would tighten and loosen when Dan bent his arms. Then he felt his shoulders, his collarbones covered by white fabric. He moved down to Dan’s knees, feeling the kneecap move under his skin. He looked at his toes, bent them, then tapped the soles of Dan’s feet, which made Dan laugh.

Then he felt Dan’s hair. It was fine and was growing out from the bowl-cut he had had for a few years. Phil spread it out between his thumb and forefinger, looking at the individual strands. He ran his pinky along his nose, touching his glabella. Last, he slid his hands down to Dan’s chin. He sat, silent, waiting for Dan to speak.

“You do know I’m dying, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why are you holding my face? It’s a bit strange.”

“Dan, I imagined you’d gotten it by now.” Phil chuckled. “I love you. You didn’t give me a chance to say it when you told me, you just dismissed me straightaway. I love the way you laugh, and how you love things, and the faces you make and the jokes you say that make me laugh for minutes on end. I love you, even though I haven’t been able to say it. For months now.”

Dan looked right into Phil. But it wasn’t really looking at him, more through him.

“Wow. Well, then,” and he paused, reaching up to grab Phil’s shoulder, “why don’t you kiss me already, you dork?”

And he did, and Dan’s lips were soft and without the slightest crack, and it was warm and full and said much more than it should’ve. How vast love was when you looked at it, how life was already leaving Dan and they both knew it, how if Dan was going to die, then they were going to make his last day as stuffed full of love and joy as any day could be.

Finally, they broke apart. Phil lay next to Dan on the cot, just thinking with him and through him for as long as they could both stand. Then Phil got up.

“They’re ready to come in, I bet,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay. Here.” Dan stood carefully, his legs clearly weakened by the quickly spreading disease. He held out his arms.

Phil hugged him, and the electricity between them traveled all the way into the floor, through the whole room. Dan broke off, lay down, and said, “Let them come in.”

Phil opened the door. Everyone flooded in, the doctors keeping everyone a few feet away. The heart monitor was slowly showing Dan’s signs of life, but the beat was slowing with the passing seconds. Phil - and everyone else - watched as it continued to slow, slow, slow, until it was almost not beating at all.

And right then, Dan looked at Phil, not through him. Only at Phil, it seemed.

“Thank you.”

And as the flatline echoed throughout the room, Phil felt a part of him leave with Dan.

Phil fell forward to sob with the others around the room, aching for the loss of such a glorious human. As he stepped forward to lay his hands on Dan, he looked at his face.

Dan was still angelic. Even in death, he glowed with life.

· · · · · 

Phil was sick of it.

Sick of the people asking him how it was to be _“friends with bubble boy”_ , sick of the news people calling and people recognizing him on the street from his pictures in the paper.

He didn’t want the attention. The only person who deserved attention from Dan’s death was Dan.

He hadn’t disclosed that Dan had loved him to anyone. Not yet. He needed some secrecy with all the media focused on him. So he could be alone with his thoughts.

His thoughts of what could have been, of the life he could have spent with Dan. The Mario Kart tournaments, the beanbag cuddles, the pizza dinners and walks in the park. Who knew, maybe a wedding and some children, birthday parties and babysitters. The kinds of things you shared with the people you love, or used to.

He loved the memories he had. Especially that first three weeks, of innocence and glory and no knowledge of what was to come of the friendship. When they had discussed all that they loved, all that they wanted, without abandon or worried.

How he would _love_ to have that preteen fervor again.

Now he was just broken. Grief was so overwhelming, and he couldn’t act without it falling over him again. He saw brown in everyone’s eyes, even his own. He heard Dan’s laugh when others laughed, and wondered if, when he eventually heard his own laugh again, he would hear Dan’s laugh in his own.

Worst of all was the plastic.

Every time he saw or touched plastic now, it trapped him in memories of Dan. Plastic wrap was the worst of it all. He imagined Dan’s being stuck in that all his life. The way that must have felt. How he must feel now, if he could feel anything at all. If bubbles would be in heaven with him. (For surely Dan must be in heaven, if he was anywhere.)

Eventually, he moved on.

He graduated from high school. He did well in his classes. He moved to higher education - to York. And when he did, he told the Howells he would visit.

But he knew, within himself, that Dan’s house was a place he could never visit again.

It had been the home of Dan’s captivity and unrest, of his sadness and loneliness.

It was a house of glass, full of fragile memories and unquiet ghosts of those he’d lost.

And, or so Phil told himself, it would forever be Dan’s.


End file.
